Not Pleased

Guys, I survived. Well, I survived week 1 of single parenting. I have another week coming up followed by another 2 weeks alone. Dudes, I don’t care if you’re like the toughest baddest ass on the block. You WILL FEAR the week alone. Oh yes, you’ll fear it.

Because now? I fear nothing more in my life. Well, I’m pretty scared of also facing a day where there is nothing “planned” for G. Because when I don’t have either paintbrushes and rocks and shit laid out for some sort of “project”, it’s all over. Or maybe jesus took the wheel that day and delivered some sort of large box from Amazon that can be turned into a rocket ship or a house for an hour. Then, we’re good. But no plan? Holy shit, just go and hide your valuables and sanity because they are both about to go out the window.

And that was my challenge with the double kid solo week. What the hell are we going to do? I mean I’ve done every BS activity on Pinterest including the damn baking soda dropper food coloring nonsense. I did the sensory bins of stupid. I did the jars of crap that you hold and then break and then ruin the carpet. So I scheduled us. I scheduled the shit out of us.

I sent a desperate email to pretty much everyone I knew. It went like this.

Hi friend,

How are you doing? How is that thing you are working on? How is that person we talked about? Great! Now I really need you to help me give kids baths and take G to your house for an hour. Please help me with that if you care about me or my children at all. Thank you. Peacebewithyou.

Desperate in Phoenixville,

Amanda

And because I have awesome friends, I had someone here every single night helping me with baths and bedtime. Because bathing an infant with a toddler running around with a bucket on his head and a sword in his hand, is difficult. One night I even had one of my “cool” friends here to help. The “cool” friends are the ones without kids yet. However she confirmed for me after her night with us that it will be quite some time before she becomes uncool like me. Thanks kids.

You see, G is special. Real freaking special. And by special I mean, he’s 2 and a half and drama out the ass. I am walking on egg shells with this kid.

Me: Oh, I see. Right. I don’t know why I didn’t think about that first.

And then there is Ruby. Poor little Ruby is getting her 2nd tooth in a month. And she’s only 4 months old. She wants to be happy so bad but she is just mis. It’s a little like this.

Hi Ruby Lee!

You are so happy!

Oh, don’t be sad. Let’s sing a song.

Yay!

Oh sorry, ok more song.

(G screams: MOMMY PLAY TOYS)

A;LDKSF;AKLDFJ;LKJ

And then there’s the bullshit of cleaning the cat shit box, doing laundry, doing diaper laundry, doing dishes, cooking meals, emptying trash, taking out trash, getting mail, sending mail… You know, regular people stuff who can do stuff who have 2 working arms available. People like B. People who are IN CALIFORNIA VISITING THEIR GIRLFRIEND.

So B is home. But like not really. I mean he still goes to work every day and I still am home with the kids. And yes, it’s hard and yes I complain. I would complain about a rainbow of sunshine free J.crew clothes. But dudes, it’s not a one man job. And for those of you in this situation permanently? Call the cops. Someone needs to be arrested for putting you in that situation. At least get a lawyer. Call me, I’ll be your lawyer.

Day by day people. Day by day.

xoxo

Queen of the dark circle.

Guys, I survived. Well, I survived week 1 of single parenting. I have another week coming up followed by…

Hello. If you’re reading this post it means something, even if it’s a very small something is going right in this house. Something being, both kids are napping at the same time. Because that time my friends and ONLY that time is when we can talk. Oh, and only after I cook 40 meals from scratch in my kitchen.

Wait. What was that last part?

Me? Cooking a bunch of shit?

EVERY.G.D.DAY?

Yes. Oh yes.

My diet has morphed from restrictive for breastfeeding, to Paleo, to Whole30 and now the Candida Diet (removing yeast). All to help my little bugger Ruby feel better. She now has full body eczema, mucus face, man farts and sparse poops. We went to the naturopath yesterday and were told that she has too much yeast and is reacting. That means, no fruit, no honey, and definitely no gummy penguins. Listen, I know it’s my choice to do this. But manalive cut me a break with this food shit. Also, who am I? Martini MODG barely recognizes this frizz ball makeupless train wreck.

If I squint real hard and tilt my head and suck in my gut, I can kiiiind of remember the cool weird girl that started this blog. I remember posting pictures of a shaker and martini glass and being all, “my evening”. And that would be the whole post. Ok quality lacked around here, but my life was miles different than what it is now. A good newlywed friend of mine just informed me that my last “drunk” category post was 2 full years ago. She asked me to rectify this. Another commenter asked that I start posting more of what my “adult” life is like these days. Both had good intentions, but friends without kids, hear me now: THERE IS NO ADULT LIFE. You think I’m exaggerating. You know, because that’s what I do around here. I’m not.

Let me break it down for you:

Wake up either from a grunting baby next to me or a toddler jumping on top of me saying “more special movie” “more special movie” (this is what he calls cartoons. TV has become the 5th family member since Ruby arrived)

Hold one kid while getting another dressed, reverse.

Prop small one somewhere and occupy toddler with a brush and my bra drawer while I somehow get dressed

I do not get to dry my hair though. I have to run down and get Ruby because she’s screaming.

Feed Ruby and watch the Bachelor in 30 minute increments every night. I’m on episode 2.

9:30pm Ruby is tired, sleeps next to me and will only stay asleep next to me. So I sleep. She moves to her crib around midnight.

AND THEN WE DO IT ALL AGAIN.

See how there wasn’t like, wine time in there? There wasn’t any chocolate and internet shopping time? There wasn’t any, read my Lucky mag time and take toilet pictures time? And no, there wasn’t even blog time.

Listen friends, I’m not complaining. I have a really cool little family and it’s my job to be the momma. And I know this is all a phase as I’ve said. But it’s literally every minute of every day. There is no adult fun time. I hate to break it to everyone who doesn’t have little bundles of poop and pee yet. But let me tell you this, you will be SO good at playing trains. You will play the shit out of those trains.

So stay with me folks. You’ll see more of me as time goes on. And the more you see of me, the better you know we’re doing. Because somehow I’m alone, at my computer and I’m breathing (and maybe drinking wine. Praise Britney, please let me be drinking some wine)

I will have non mom skinny jean post #2 for you soon. You know, when I get time.

xoxo and sexy grain free love,

MODG

Hello. If you’re reading this post it means something, even if it’s a very small something is going right…

See, after baby#2, this little old body of mine is like screw you bitch. I’m tired. And fat. And I like it that way. Except I don’t like it that way. I’ve been on the Paleo diet for almost a month now and due to my insane crutch of eating bags of nuts and every coconut product that a coconut could ever produce (there are like 58), I’m gaining weight. GAINING WEIGHT. How do I know this? Because I had the awesome responsibility of getting measured for a bridesmaid dress. Which is worse than weighing yourself on a scale. It’s numbers that tell you how much earth you take up. And then a week later, the numbers were bigger. And I died. So we’re working on fixing that asap.

In the mean time, a girl has to wear jeans. And I’m super qualified to help all the post pregs find jeans since my body looks like a half empty roll of toothpaste. Before we get into the grit of it all, I’m going to explain my body to you so you can understand if this can help you.

Yes that’s me. I also have a Ihateeverything look on my face for good reason. I remember when Kendra Wilkinson said that she could feel her uterus pushing out her stomach, I thought, please bitch, that’s some excuse. But I swear I feel it. It’s giving me a big pouchy belly. I have a longer torso with short legs so in general I need jeans that have a higher rise so they don’t push my side fat all over the jeans. But my legs are petite and I’m overall a pretty small person, so when I go up a size, the waist fits, but the legs are too big. I know, disgusting. So this was my challenge.

I posted on facebook to everyone to recommend your best skinny jeans to me. I normally am not a skinny jean fan, but with my new disgusting body, it’s works. In a disgusting way. I received almost 300 comments. Super. I went through them all. My criteria was this:

1) affordable. I do not plan on being this size for long. HEAR THAT BODY? But I did try a few pricier ones just to compare

2) dark color to make me fade into the dark dark night of skinniness

3) super skinny with some stretch

4) a mid to high rise to tuck away all the bullshit

I made a pinterest page categorizing all of the recommendations. Then I got a very very special day where B stayed home with the kiddos and I went on a damn MISSION to the mall. There was sweat involved.

**NOTE** I do not have the time or ability to do a full denim photoshoot on my toilet. I tried and then a baby cried and a toddler pooped and it was all over. I got one picture.

I started with some of the cheaper and less likely options

Ann Taylor Loft is the supplier of these seemingly cute jeans (Modern Skinny). Cute right? Dark, skinny, stretchy, mid rise. And what I like about general mall type stores is that the sizing always makes you feel way skinnier than you are to appeal to fat america. I bite. Loft had a 50% off sale so I ordered these.

DISGUSTING FAIL.

I should say that I saw these on a friend and they were cute. This is what they looked like on me

I can’t even believe I just put that picture on the internet with my slow face and beast butch outfit. Regardless, you needed to see the FALACY that is Ann Taylor Loft. BAD. Now I should say that I have heard the legging jeans are better. This I may try. But these friends. No. Just no. Next.

Another American Standard. THE GAP. I’ve been impressed with their jeans lately. They usually do stretch out but without paying 200 dollars, you’re going to get that.

I tried these:

This is the Gap legging jean. Note, it is not the super stretch. We’ll get to that. These I liked. The rise was perfecto. I did order 1 size bigger than I normally wear pre-preg, but it wasn’t THREE sizes bigger so that’s a win. I did not order the short or petite, which you would think I should since I’m 5’2”. But in both, the rise is shorter and hits the handles in a vomit spot. The regular was perfecto. I KEPT THESE AND I’M HAPPY WITH THEM.

I did also try these

These are the same jeans as above but with Super Stretch. Very cute, seemingly good fitting. But halfway through the day they literally fall down my ass and I’m pulling them up like a diaper wearing mental patient. Cute but annoying. For my body, it’s a no.

Ok these were sitting in my mailbox as I was writing this post. I threw on my hot pink slippers and pea coat and ran in the freezing wind to get them. I threw them on and immediately thought, too small. kill myself. But I kept going. And you know what? I like them. A lot. They are “jeanier” than a lot of the legging jeans I’ve tried. I wish the rise was a little higher but I think they will stretch a bit. I will say that they are junior’s sizing which is AWFUL. I ordered 3 sizes bigger and should have gotten 4 sizes. I know. But I’m going to keep them and rock them.

Next….

These are the BDG jeans that are carried at Urban Outfitters. I didn’t get to try them this time around but I do have a pair and I like them. They aren’t my “current” size right now but the rise is good and I’d try them again. Price is great too. I’d go a size up in these though.

Oh JCrew. Once upon a time we were friends. No longer. The toothpick and matchstick jeans were recommended to me and were a giant frump fail. I looked like a mom on a mission. A mission to be disgusting. I tried on all the jeans in the store. Some jeans, when you size up just doesn’t work on the rest of you. J.Crew falls into this sad sad category.

I’m SO sick of everyone being all “Old Navy ROCKSTAR jeans are the bestest best ever”. No. No they are not. They are SO low rise I wanted to vomit. I tried all colors, shapes, etc. These are so bad (for me) I wanted to cry/die. I also tried their other shapes, flirty curvy, swirly, twirly, who can keep up with the lame names. They were all a no for this post preg.

Now let’s talk about some of the higher end options. In another child-less life, I had a high paying job and could buy nice clothes. So I believe there is nothing in the world like expensive jeans. They do things for your body that no other clothing item can (Spanx excluded). Not too long ago I received a 100 dollar gift card to Nordstroms from a reader. I KNOW?!?! So I got in the car, left my pride at home and tried some of these fat sluggers on.

Hudson mid rise “Nico”. Ugh expensive jeans. You are so good yet hurt me so bad. See, these people don’t need to cater to fat America so their sizing is more “true”. I like to call it more “lies” but it’s true. I had to go up THREE sizes to get them to even fit. And then they were bag sag in the legs. For me, it was a no go. For someone cuter than me, a good jean.

These are the AG Jeans in super skinny stretch. They fit more like a legging. I went up 1 size AND 2 sizes and both fit. That’s how you know you’ve got some pajama jeans on your hands (good thing). I really really liked these. They came up perfectly in the rise and hugged my legs and butt. I was realizing that I needed more of a legging jean in general and less of a skinny jean. The legging jeans were giving me the stretch I wanted to not squeeze the belly but also to be tight enough on my legs to make me look small under my giant potato sack sweaters. I didn’t buy these because they were so expensive BUT I WANTED TO. OH I WANTED TO.

Joe’s Skinny Leg “Marty”. Nope. Not cute. Not skinny enough. Not stretchy enough. Too tight in the waist, too big in the legs. Same old BULLSHIT. Screw you Joe and your “jeans”.

So my conclusion for those of you who may have a similar body type and are dealing with post partum fats. Get yourself the stretchiest legging jean you can find (i.e. leggings). Remember how leggings were good when you were preg? Same idea, except JEANS.

Can someone get me the 19 kids and counting mom on the phone? I mean, I know she has Jesus on her team, but man alive, 2 kids is advanced mom stuff. And yet again, I think, like every family in the world has at least 2 kids. WHY DOES NO ONE TALK ABOUT IT? I’m talking about it. It’s hard. Real hard. Hard enough where I occasionally consider getting Jesus involved.

Ok to be fair, G has been sick. For a week. Like fever, and hateseverythingandwhiiiiiinesaboutbananasandtrucksandeverythiiiiiiiingelse. Now add in a newborn. Dudes, someone was looking out for me in the universe when they gave me Ruby. This girl is chill. It’s the only way I’ve survived sick G. I mean the baby has to eat and be changed and she’s cool with the rest. I don’t know whose womb she came from, but it wasn’t mine. I’m actively looking into conspiracies and hospital shenanigans.

She lets me do nonsense like this and play “toddlers and tiaras” to the imaginary judges. B’s a big fan.

But yeah, I thought it was the flu. It wasn’t the flu. We had him tested at the doctor. Apparently B thinks that it not being the flu means it’s easier around here for me to handle this situation and can be unavailable. Mark my words internet, this is the last time B takes G to the doctor and gets the diagnosis before me. So I was on my own with the kids during black plague 2013. If anyone knows this story already, it’s Amazon. I immediately ordered 15 supplements and vitamins. Then the extra probiotics. Then the stuff to make Kombucha. THEN the chinese stuff to keep from getting sick. I know you’re like, what about stuff to actually get G better? Here’s the thing about toddlers: they don’t give a shit. You’re like here kid, take this spoon full of sugar covered chocolate rainbow cookie cake candy and you will grow wings and fly to a better place. And they are all HELL NO am I opening my mouth for anything, including water. Thank you. And so we suffer. And all I can do is protect myself from the beast.

The beast that is the germy toddler. I had to teach G what germs are. I told him that little buggies were living on his clothes and skin and in the air around him. He said, BUGGIES OUTSIDE! And I said, yes, buggies do live outside. But right now you have your own tiny buggies and they make us sick. So keep your buggies to yourself. I think it sort of worked. I can tell because he licked his sister’s face 60% less. He instead took his affections out on Charlie. Charlie really took one for the team.

ALL you want to do is get to the nap part of the day. Then nap comes and baby is awake and wants to nurse. She nurses and falls asleep. The second you sit at your computer to check out the skinny jeans that you all recommended to me, you hear MOMMY MOMMY COME IN COME IN. You go to the toddler and he’s standing there looking at you like, well? And you’re like WHAT? And he’s like “wall” (and points to the wall). And you’re like. YEP THAT’S THE WALL. GO BACK TO SLEEP. And he does. For 15 minutes. And then the newborn is awake again after the “wall” notification. And then G is climbing out of the crib and it’s over. Your life that is.

Toddler’s bodies are just giant vats of sick and germ continuously finding new viruses to surprise and delight. Like my friend’s kid currently has a rash that resembles a map of China all over his back and leg. The doctor was like, no big deal. Toddler virus. G had a 102.9 fever, a cold sore and a continuous drainage from his nose. Doc? Toddler virus. If I had any of that shit, I’d be in the hospital before you can say WebMD. But toddlers are so gross, that this is normal.

But it’s almost over. ALMOST. I foresee at least 3-4 more days of this BS in our future before we’re back to normal. There aren’t enough Disney Pixar movies to get me through it, I promise you that. We’ve moved onto grade B entertainment like YoGabbaGabba. Which I thought was out of my life for good. I was very wrong.

So friends, I hope you enjoyed this poorly thought out post. Because these days I have no idea who will cry and take me away from the computer. So I just go. And you get what you get.

If Jesus is on your team, put in a good word.

xoxo

MODG

Can someone get me the 19 kids and counting mom on the phone? I mean, I know she has…

I forgot I had a computer. Let alone a blog of nonsense to run. I remembered when I had a dream that one slapped me in the face with a piece of bologna.

I’m going to declare something here and now: I will never declare anything ever again. (except this declaration of non declaring). Because as soon as I do, BAM another bologna slap. This time on the ass.

Last time I was all, lalala this is great, I can handle this, Ruby is doing so well, life is happy. The MOMENT as a mother you say shit like that, you know your life is about to be over. It’s like in ANY TV sitcom. DJ Tanner is like, my hair is SO big today. It’s going to be a great day! And then before you know it, Kimmy Gibbler is all, but it’s picture day at school and I bet you didn’t see that giant PIMPLE on your FACE and the boy you like is standing behind you! It’s just like that.

So in this hand of baby poker, Ruby sees G’s baby gas issues and raises him explosive watery diarrhea that smells like a B poop. If you know about breastfeeding, their poop doesn’t smell and it’s mustardy and seedy. I still don’t know how the seeds get in there. But Ruby is all, um, no, my little body is going to explode brown water all over you once ever 4 days and it will smell like the apocalypse. I know it’s cute and funny but it’s not because this is a real life sign of a food intolerance. A food intolerance after I cut out dairy already. For a month. And soy. AND gluten. I know.

For those of you who were around when G was developing these issues, you know I went down the path of a leaky gut and the GAPS diet to heal it. Well I’m being pointed in that direction again. For those of you who don’t know (and I didn’t), many people have “leaky guts”. Many people live life just fine without symptoms. Others have things like bladder issues (raises hand), IBS (raises hand), depression (raises hand) or ADD, autism, all kinds of things. These don’t mean for sure that your gut is leaking, but there is a strong link. Literally, it means that the walls of your intestines have tiny holes in them that are leaking foods into your blood stream. Your body attacks the food like an invader, which can cause issues. For me, the food is getting into my milk in a form that is way too complex for a baby to digest. This means that ANY food I eat could cause an issue for Ruby. Because it’s not the food itself, it’s how my body is processing it.

SIGH.

I know.

And yes, Ruby and I have been on 145 dollars of probiotics for about a month now. Kill me. And don’t tell B.

How do I know that I have this? I don’t for sure. But I have a lot of the stuff that goes along with it that I mentioned above. I also took MONTHS AND MONTHS of antibiotics in college for misdiagnosed UTI’s (which wreaks havoc on your system). I have strong cravings for sugar always and aversion to fermented foods like yogurts. And the fact that both of my children now are reacting to every and all foods that I eat. In general food in tolerance is rare in breastfed babies. So to have them be this intolerant to everything shows a sign of something bigger.

3 days ago I broke down. I was sure my milk was destroying my baby. It was a low low moment. We decided to give Ruby the super expensive 30 dollar a can formula for 24 hours. And it was the worst day for me so far with Ruby. Not because formula is poison. It’s not at all and I was happy to do it if it helped. But I literally couldn’t handle it. Ruby was rooting for comfort and I’d have to hand her to B. I sat by and watched B give her bottles as I cried feeling like again, that I was broken. I cried because I felt like I was doing EVERYTHING I could to breastfeed this child and she was still sick.

That feeling that I had that day was worse than any feeling I’ve had missing out on food. So I decided that night that I will keep breastfeeding her. I’m not giving up yet. And I’m going to heal my gut.

I am not doing the GAPS diet, which made me pass out on my steps and vomit. But I am now on the Paleo diet. This basically means you eat like a caveman. Dudes, trust me, not my bag. But if it makes Ruby feel better and I can breastfeed her, then I will do it.

I know many of you are thinking, just give the kid formula and give yourself a break. 1) the can is 30 dollars. You heard that right? 2) After what I went through with the VBAC, I really just need a win for team hippie. 3) breastfeeding is all that I know. I breastfed G until he was 1. It was his comfort, it was our every night, it was our whole relationship for a year. If you formula feed and someone told you that tomorrow you had to breastfeed, you would freak out too.

this is why I do it. This explosion of adorableness.

So after today, I broke down crying in breastfeeding support group, they picked me off, dusted me off and told me to get a hold of myself. Then Ruby exploded 4 days of shit all over her and I. And I was brought down to earth.

Bright side? I’ll lose that baby weight again.

Down side? Pizza.

Stay with me folks. It’s another baby battle. 2013 style.

Leaky gut people, help me.

Breastfeeders, help me.

J.Crew, help me.

xoxo

MODG

PS if you’re feeling low as a new mom, do not, I repeat DO NOT go to Nordstrom’s to try on jeans. You will try on the size too big and it will still be too small. And then you’re on the first floor so you can’t even jump out of the window.

That’s all.

Dudes. Shit has been real around here. I forgot I had a computer. Let alone a blog of nonsense…

As many of you know who were around last year, once Operation WANA kicks off, this blog goes crazy for the rest of the month. So before that happens, I wanted to update you on life in the MODG house.

I remember posting a lot about how hard it was when G was born. Someone commented something like, “what are you complaining about…you only have one kid” and I was all YOU DON’T KNOW ME YOU DON’T KNOW. Dudes, she was right. What the F was I complaining about? 2 kids is like way more than double hard. I however happen to have kids that you can’t put down without the cryren (cry siren) alerting the town.

I’m going to confess something. I still haven’t had a whole day alone with both kids. 40% of that is because of the c-section recovery. 60% is because I’m scared out of my mind. Ruby nurses 22 and a half hours a day. G does not do well at things like “sitting nicely” and “waiting”. And honestly, B is afraid to leave me too.

G just had his 2nd birthday. He got a shovel, balloons and an attitude. He isn’t playing. JUST in time for new baby. All I see is him running into traffic, laughing into the wind and giving me the finger. Ok he’s not that bad. But I really don’t know how people do it with a newborn and a 2 year old.

And then it happened. My biggest fear. Ruby farted. She didn’t just fart, she farted all day all week all NIGHT. And not just baby farts, big man painful farts. Just like her brother did. And I was instantly taken back to the hell on earth that was my breastfeeding experience with G. I remembered how hard it was to figure out what was causing it. Was it his latch? My diet? Tongue tie? Overproduction? Just him being a fart pants? And babies are annoying because they can’t tell you what’s going on. No matter how many times you ask.

If you remember I ended up cutting out dairy, soy and wheat for almost 6 months. It was total hell. Seriously. And here I am again. I realized that I was dehydrated and needed way more water than I was taking in, which helped. But not this time. So dairy is gone. And I want to cry. Not for my missing cheese, but for this path that I could have to go down again.

But I will tell you this. And many of you die hards will curse me out for this. I will not do it again. I can’t. If we get even close to the place we were again, Ruby will be getting an allergy specific formula. You know how hard core I am about breastfeeding so I hope you understand how FOR REAL this situation would have to be to go down that path. But I look back and realized that I was not taking care of myself at all during that time. And I’ve learned that to be a good mom, I have to take care of myself.

We’re not there yet and hopefully we won’t get there. But my birth experience taught me a lot. You don’t know how someone got to the place they are. You don’t know why that woman has a scheduled c-section. Maybe she was up all night crying about it. Maybe she wasn’t. Why is that woman feeding her baby formula? Maybe her baby was a premie and her milk didn’t come in yet. Maybe her milk never came in. Maybe she is deep in PPD. So I’m going to do the best I can to not judge and not worry about others judging me. I need to do what’s best for us.

So pray to Britney for us that things get a little bit better and this all works out.

In the mean time leave me comments with great dairy free tricks and magic and also magic to make babies stop farting.

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The winner of the 6 months free to Turning Art is

Melissa
I like this one – Bamboo Bar Code http://www.turningart.com/art-prints/category/playful-happy-whimsical/recency/piece-view/7258 Turning Art is a great idea, I’d love to try that out. I need art for my bedroom… We’re not exchanging gifts this year, just too many other expenses plus the kids gifts, so we’ll skip it this year. We’ll just enjoy each other…awww..ha.

email me Melissa at modgblog at gmail dot com

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And this life update was brought to you by a super cute baby store, Green Pea Baby and Child, focused on unique toys and gifts with a healthy organic flare. Just my thing. I browsed this store for like an hour. I want everything. I especially love these hand knit dolls. Bonus, with the code HSP2012, you get 15% off of toys and ornaments with free shipping. Check them out for goodness and stuff.

As many of you know who were around last year, once Operation WANA kicks off, this blog goes crazy…